


love is another word for destruction

by Wildcard



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bloodplay, Cannibalism, F/M, Gunplay, Knifeplay, M/M, Murder, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 9,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildcard/pseuds/Wildcard
Summary: Some Imayoshi/Hanamiya shorts! Warning: none of them are nice, most of them are bloody and all of them are terrible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Major Tags:** bodily fluids (blood), graphic depictions of violence/gore (cannibalism, death (character death), abuse (domestic abuse, physical abuse)  
>  **PROMPT:** if my body was on fire you'd watch me burn down in flames.

Imayoshi is, to put it bluntly, _fucking beautiful_.

Hanamiya’s just in awe. He’s got his phone out, camera on, but he’s not even bothering to bring it into focus. He’s just holding it roughly in the right direction and staring. Maybe he should have bought a proper camera to record this with. He isn’t sure the mic on his phone is strong enough to properly pick up the exquisite agony of Imayoshi’s _screams._

The flames leap up around Imayoshi, haloing him in gold and orange. All the colors of autumn dance about him, celebrating the dying of his days. His skin’s cracked open, revealing flashes of red meat that all-too-quickly char and turn as black as his hair. His glasses have cracked, shards embedded in his formerly pretty face, and Hanamiya watches the eyes pop like blisters, then ooze away to leave black holes that are just as expressive as Imayoshi’s eyes ever were.

The crackling, spitting sound of cooking meat surprises Hanamiya just a little. He hadn’t thought that Imayoshi had enough fat on him to sound so much like a sausage cooking. There are layers to the scent, so sickly sweet that it’s nearly putrid. The flash-reek of Imayoshi’s hair had been like rotten eggs and sulfur but his skin had been charcoal-clean, almost pleasant - and then the fire had reached his blood and the scent had turned oddly metallic.

It wasn’t off-putting. On the contrary, Hanamiya wished there was some way to bottle the scent. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the aroma of love dying, and watched as Imayoshi thrashed against the bed that Hanamiya had chained him down to. Hanamiya had wanted to leave Imayoshi free, watch Imayoshi spin in panic before his brain kicked in and made him roll over the ground, but there was too much risk that Imayoshi would decide to get revenge by running at Hanamiya and embracing him to set him on fire too. 

Imayoshi was smart like that. It was one of the things that Hanamiya loved most about him.

Imayoshi’s screams took on a new pitch and Hanamiya licked over his lips as he watched Imayoshi struggle. Maybe he’d eat some of Imayoshi’s cooked flesh when he was done. He’d let it nourish him, build his muscles stronger, enrich his marrow. He’d made Imayoshi part of himself _forever_ so Imayoshi would be with Hanamiya even after Hanamiya died and his body started decomposing.

So much more romantic than mere wedding rings.


	2. black, black, black and blue beat me till i'm numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Major Tags:** bodily fluids (blood), abuse (domestic abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, physical abuse), graphic depictions of violence, dubcon, sexual content, sexual assault

Imayoshi’s hands close around Hanamiya’s throat and squeeze so delicately that Hanamiya doesn’t even feel at it first. His lungs flutter in his chest like dying butterflies, valves opening and closing to the throb of Imayoshi’s cock in Hanamiya’s mouth, and Hanamiya moans.

Imayoshi squeezes harder and Hanamiya’s cock grows harder. He tilts his head back, imagines Imayoshi can feel the outline of his own cock inside Hanamiya’s throat (nothing but a cock sleeve, just a masturbation aid for Imayoshi to fuck and squeeze), and flutter his own fingers against his thighs.

They’re due to be on the court any second now but their teammates all know to leave them alone before games. 

Playing the entire game gasping for air, feeling each breath burn his throat and ache so sweetly, will be Hanamiya’s own personal handicap. It stops the game from getting too boring.

It stops him from breaking his opponent’s bones.

*

Tenderness is a word meant for vocabulary tests, not for them. Hanamiya wraps his legs around Imayoshi and squeezes like he wants to shatter Imayoshi’s hips. In response, Imayoshi thrusts so hard that Hanamiya _howls_ , feral and freed by this sweet pain.

There are bruises on Hanamiya’s hips already, black and blue prints as deep as fresh tattoos. When Imayoshi’s gone, Hanamiya’ll press his hand down against them and jack off, one hand digging into his bruises and the other squeezing his erection past the point of pleasure.

* 

“No,” Imayoshi says, adjusting his tie primly. “I have a Student Council Meeting in half an hour--”

The smash of Imayoshi’s collarbone against the desk is such a satisfying sound. Hanamiya grabs a handful of hair and uses it to smash Imayoshi’s face against the desk. As a favor to Imayoshi, Hanamiya grabs one arm of his glasses and yanks them off, tossing them carelessly onto another table.

(He bitches so much whenever his glasses get cracked.)

“Makoto!” Imayoshi snaps and Hanamiya laughs, leans down to bite at Imayoshi’s shoulder through his jacket. He leaves a big, wet sloppy oval of spit on the cloth, yanks at Imayoshi’s trousers with his other hand. Imayoshi’s trying to get his arms underneath himself, lever himself up and oh, Hanamiya loves Imayoshi so much for knowing exactly how to turn him on. This pretense of reluctance makes Hanamiya grind forwards against Imayoshi.

“Come on, Shoichi. If you don’t want it, _fight me properly_.”

Imayoshi does; Hanamiya wins anyway.


	3. take a bullet straight through my brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Major Tags:** bodily fluids (blood), abuse (domestic abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, physical abuse), graphic depictions of violence, sexual content,   
> **Other Tags:** unhealthy relationship, gunplay

“Tell me that’s not loaded,” Hanamiya demands, looking at the gun warily. He laughs then and says, “No. Tell me it _is_.”

Where did Imayoshi even get a gun from? Hanamiya will find out later.

For now, he twists his wrists, trying fruitlessly to free them from the red cloth that binds them behind him, then gives up and slumps back. Head back, mouth open, just the way Imayoshi likes him.

Imayoshi’s hand tangles in his hair, jerking Hanamiya’s head even further back to expose the clean line of Hanamiya’s bruised throat, and Imayoshi smiles like he could eat the world.

“Of course it is, Makoto. I wouldn’t bluff with _you_.” Imayoshi thumbs the chamber open to show Hanamiya the three bullets. “Fifty-fifty chance. You can risk misbehaving three times, no more.”

“Let me taste it. Come on, Shoichi. Don’t be a tease.” Hanamiya licks over his own lips, looking at the gun with the same lust he shows Imayoshi whenever the other bleeds. As punishment for being too eager for something other than Imayoshi’s cock, Imayoshi smacks Hanamiya’s cheek with the gun. It’s a light strike, Imayoshi easily calculating how much force he can use with the metal before he breaks bone, and it does nothing but make Hanamiya moan again.

“Slut,” Imayoshi says but the insult sounds almost fond as he slides the gun down and presses it past Hanamiya’s full lips. 

Hanamiya’s eyes are glittering with a dangerous hunger; he sucks immediately, hungrily, like he’s been starving for the taste of metal and death all his life. There’s no attempt to put on a show or make it good for Imayoshi. There’s just Hanamiya’s throat working as he swallows his own spit, his lips sealed around the barrel and Hanamiya surging forwards until his lips touch Imayoshi’s fingers.

Imayoshi knows about trigger safety; his fingers is to the side, not on the trigger, but Hanamiya flicks a little lick to Imayoshi’s finger to guide it onto the trigger. When he pulls back, it’s only for a second to gasp dramatically for breath before he lunges forwards again and locks his lips around the wet barrel of the gun. He bobs his head up and down, almost like he really is giving head, and Imayosh’s almost _annoyed_ at how much Hanamiya is enjoying this.

Hanamiya pulls off so he can shuffled around, landing awkwardly on his shoulder with his ass high in the air. The fingers of his bound hands twitch as he demands breathlessly, “ _Fuck_ me.”

Imayoshi doesn’t undo his trousers. He knows what Hanamiya wants inside him and it’s not Imayoshi’s cock.

The gun slides so easily into Hanamiya that Imayoshi considers pushing it deep enough that Hanamiya’s own muscles would trigger it to fire.


	4. Let's Kill Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys that kill together stay together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild sexual content, unhealthy relationship and emotional/mental manipulation.

_Do you have any plans for tonight?_ The message that flashes up on Hanamiya’s phone seems so innocent but it’s from Imayoshi. Nothing from Imayoshi is innocent, least of all when he’s angling to meet up. 

Is it sex Imayoshi wants? A game of 1 on 1 followed by sex? Or is it even better?

Hanamiya grins down at his phone and licks over his lips. Women’s magazines would tell him to play it cool, to not be available at such short notice but the games he plays with Imayoshi are far more complex than romance.

 _Got nothing to do._ ‘I could do you if you came over’ would be too crude a rider and so Hanamiya leaves it unsaid. Imayoshi will think it anyway, Hanamiya knows.

 _Come visit me then._

Hanamiya’s grin widens until it looks like a deranged thing, the blood-wet curve of a sickle with serrations for teeth. Oh? Imayoshi’s inviting him over? Now that’s unusual. Imayoshi’s so precious about his reputation and his position on the Student Council; he doesn’t want to be known as someone who has a Kirisaki Daichi student for a friend.

Especially not _this_ student.

The next message from Imayoshi, however, dampens his excitement slightly.

 

 _I’ll meet you at the station._

Oh. So Imayoshi’s still keeping their relationship secret. That’s fine by Hanamiya. 

Sharing a secret with someone is the same as giving them blackmail material; Hanamiya isn’t the one who’ll be ashamed if his association with Imayoshi gets out.

*

Imayoshi’s changed his glasses for sunglasses, slicked his hair back and traded his neat, pristine clothing for a faux-leather jacket and scuffed jeans. It’s not a bad look on him but Hanamiya gets very little time to admire it before Imayoshi’s tongue is down his throat and electricity’s shocking painfully up his spine. 

Imayoshi almost always kisses like he’s dissecting Hanamiya, like his tongue is a scalpel and he’s going to carve Hanamiya apart deliberately and skillfully. Being rough is Hanamiya’s forte but when Imayoshi plays rough, it gets Hanamiya hard like nothing else around.

“We’re going hunting tonight,” Imayoshi murmurs into Hanamiya’s mouth (like Hanamiya didn’t know that the moment he saw Imayoshi looking so unlike himself) and grabs Hanamiya’s dick through Hanamiya’s jeans.

Hanamiya jerks again. He could come off nothing more than this but Imayoshi’s squeezing too tightly to allow that. He always knows just how far to push Hanamiya.

“Yes,” Hanamiya gasps and Imayoshi smiles because of course he knew all along what Hanamiya would say.

Hanamiya’s not sure, but he thinks this must be love.


	5. Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content. Yep. Kinky sexual content. Typos in the texts are deliberate. Also fantasized noncon.

Long distance relationships are a pain in the neck, as far as Hanamiya’s concerned. Sure, Kirisaki Daichi and Touou Academy are both in Tokyo but what does that matter when both of them are boarding schools? 

Kirisaki’s got the better dorms and thicker walls but Imayoshi refuses to come over. He can’t have anyone catch him hanging out with Hanamiya and he certainly won’t invite Hanamiya over. He won’t even Skype with Hanamiya because he says the walls are so thin that his neighbor and teammate, Susa, would hear everything.

When they do meet up, it’s glorious but in the meantime…

Hanamiya shifts slightly on the bed and texts Imayoshi:

_MH: what are you doing?_

_SI: Studying.  
SI: Like you should be._

_MH: don’t need to  
MH: bored_

_SI: That’s not my problem._

Snap goes the trap. Hanamiya grins to himself and takes a carefully posed dick pic; he wraps his hand around his cock, letting the thick head peep out coyly over his thumb, then opens his fingers up to present it more artistically. Imayoshi insists on only receiving ‘quality’ dick pics which Hanamiya has eventually figured out how to do after googling some guides.

He sends it to Imayoshi and then returns to texting.

_MH: thinking of you did this to me  
MH: take responsibility_

_SI: Who let you near the doujinshi?  
SI: You can deal with that perfectly well on your own._

_MH: don’t want to_  
MH: come on  
MH: tell me you’re not even a little turned on by that 

_SI: I’m not._

_MH: good now tell me i’m a desperate slut_

_SI: You’re providing both halves of this conversation.  
SI: You really don’t need me for this._

_MH: wouldn’t have to do both halves if you would stop being so lazy_  
MH: you’re as bad as that miracle kid you keepb itching about  
MH: bet you’d like to call him a slut  
MH: put him on his knees in the court  
MH: show him what happens to people that disobey you  
MH: i could help you work him over  
MH: you take his ass i take his mouth  
MH: bet he’d last a good long time before hstarts begging  
MH: for ust o stop 

_SI: If you must include me in this, at least type properly._

_MH: suck my dick  
MH: typed well enough for you?_

_SI: Don’t flatter yourself.  
SI: Yours isn’t long enough to reach all the way over here._

_MH: would suck you in front of him_  
MH: jack you off onto his stupid spoiled face  
MH: see if that makes him cry 

_SI: Your fixation with making Aomine cry is slightly worrying._

_MH: jealous?_

_SI: Never._

_MH: could make you_

_SI: You can’t even make me take part in this travesty of sexting._

_MH: yeah insult me some more i’m close_

The phone rings and Hanamiya picks it up.

“You’re pathetic,” Imayoshi says and the disgust in his voice makes Hanamiya wish that he actually had been masturbating instead of just faking it.

He laughs and croons into the phone, letting Imayoshi hear how controlled and clear his voice, “Only for you, Shoichi.”

Beat.

“And maybe Aomine.”

The beep of Imayoshi hanging up makes Hanamiya laugh even harder.


	6. But It's Better If You Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if Imayoshi and Hanamiya actually do sext instead of playing mind games?! GASP. Sexual content, as you might imagine. Explicit and sort of kinky dirty talk with mentions of penis mutilation.

The thin walls of the Touou Academy dorms are more of a problem than Imayoshi had anticipated them being but there are workarounds for anything if you try hard enough.

In this case, when they do video calls, he mutes Hanamiya. He can’t risk using headphones - what if they get accidentally pulled out for a moment and Susa _hears_ Hanamiya’s voice - so the only option is to make sure that he can’t hear Hanamiya. He mutes his laptop speakers, he plugs in tiny tinny earphones, he mutes the chat client and as a final touch, he places sheets of sound-absorbing foam over the speakers.

Only then does he let himself sit back and enjoy the full-screened show.

Hanamiya’s naked already, kneeling on his bed and stroking himself slowly with exaggerated motions. The webcam’s excellent quality lets Imayoshi see the way that Hanamiya bites down on his lower lip when he scrapes his thumb under the foreskin and how the muscles of his inner thighs twitch in response to a sharp tug to his nipples.

Imayoshi’s still fully dressed but he opens his uniform slacks and takes his cock out, running the fat pad of his thumb over the scars that Hanamiya’s left. He angles the camera to only show him from the chest down, just in case Hanamiya has anyone walk in, and strokes himself even more excruciatingly slowly than Hanamiya is.

_MH: looks so good_  
MH: want a taste  
MH: suck you til you’re hard  
MH: then bite down while you scream  
MH: suck the blood from your cock while it gets limp  


Hanamiya’s typing one-handed, not looking away from the camera and Imayoshi feels a surge of arousal at this proof of Hanamiya’s _competence_. Hanamiya plays the pure sadist so often that it’s always a treat to be reminded that Hanamiya possesses a mind capable of keeping up with his own.

 

Imayoshi mirrors Hanamiya, typing only with one hand, angling his wrist so that Hanamiya can see how Imayoshi’s cock thickened at those words.

_SI: You’re asking to be slapped._

_MH: maybe  
MH: that what you want to do to me?_

_SI: Maybe.  
SI: But only because tearing your teeth out would make kissing you less exciting._

_MH: the bites you left on me are fading_  
MH: i pressed them every day  
MH: kept them fresh for as long as I could 

_SI: Yours are gone too._

There’s no need to tell Hanamiya that he also jacks off with his fingers pressed deep into the bruises Hanamiya leaves on him. Hanamiya already knows that.

It’s so very nice to play with equals.


	7. if you're nervous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First times are special.

"...You've never done this before, have you?" Imayoshi asked as he felt Hanamiya grow tense again.

"What, surprised I'm not as loose as the usual sluts you fuck?" Hanamiya managed to sneer, even though his face was pale and he'd bitten his lips so many times that there was now blood speckling his upper teeth and mouth. "Just because you can't drive a truck into my ass doesn't mean I'm some nervous virgin."

"But you are," Imayoshi countered, crooking the single finger he'd managed to work inside Hanamiya with great difficulty. The Even that small motion was enough to make the muscles of Hanamiya's stomach tense, the boy biting down again on his much-abused lip. His discomfort was more attractive to Imayoshi than feigned pleasure, but all the same...

He drew his finger out, peeling off the latex glove that he'd slid on before starting to finger Hanamiya. Hanamiya stayed sprawled on the bed, legs open and his eyes fixed unflinchingly on Imayoshi. The pupils were blown wide but not, Imayoshi thought, from pleasure. More likely either pain or fear.

"This isn't going to work." He sighed and stroked Hanamiya's thigh with his bare hand, noticing as he did that Hanamiya had lost his arousal while Imayoshi had tried to open him up.

Hanamiya sat bolt upright, eyes narrowed viciously. "You're just finding excuses beccause you're too scared to admit that _you're_ a virgin who doesn't know to do. I told you to just fuck me wihout prep."

"I'd have torn you up too badly for you to practice tomorrow if I had." Imayoshi's short, cynical laugh was followed by him wrapping a hand around Hanamiya's limp cock and starting to coax it back into hardness. "Calm down, Makoto-chan. There are other things we can do."

"Like what?" Hanamiya asked, his sulky tone highlighted by how reluctantly he lay back down.

Imayoshi squirted the lube over his bare hand and gave Hanamiya's cock a few more strokes before he slid his hand behind himself. Sliding his index finger into himself, despite the angle, was far easier than it had been with Hanamiya.

"You could fuck me," he suggested and smiled as Hanamiya's eyes first went wide and then narrowed. 

"You like that?" Hanamiya asked and if Imayoshi had been harboring any doubts at all about Hanamiya being a virgin, that question would've ended it. Nobody would ask that unless they were either utterly inexperienced - or had no good experiences.

Imayoshi preferred to believe it was the former. Victims held no appeal for him unless they were _his_ victims.

"It feels good once you get used to it," Imayoshi said, working two fingers into himself patiently. He shuffled forwards a little and gripped Hanamiya's cock at the base, guiding it into him with his eyes intent on Hanamiya's face.

The surprise that blossomed over Hanamiya's face, followed quickly by pleasure, confirmed that Imayoshi had been right. This was Hanamiya's first time and he'd chosen to share it with Imayoshi.

How _sweet_.


	8. trouble from the first kiss

Their first kiss is a surprise to neither of them. They’ve been circling around this for weeks; it’s as inevitable as the heat death of the universe.

*

“Why did you tell the reporter you like stupid girls?” Imayoshi asks. If he weren’t so sure the reporter wouldn’t publish it, he might’ve bothered to make his tone into reprimand.

“Because think how it’ll make every girl feel that likes me - or that’s ever thought I liked them.” Hamamiya’s mouth curls into a wicked smirk, so sharp that it would tear the lips off anyone that was fool enough to kiss him.

Imayoshi is no fool. He closes his eyes behind his glasses. “What girl would be stupid enough to like you in the first place?” 

The question’s so polite that it could be mistaken for teasing; Hanamiya knows better.

“The same sort of girls that are stupid enough to fall for your act, Imayoshi-kun.” Hanamiya smirks up at Imayoshi, unperturbed by the light falling around Imayoshi from the window at his back. Another person might think of Imayoshi as being haloed in light but Hanamiya sees truer; Imayoshi is a black hole, eating the light, a void in reality.

“You and your sweet little speech about how you like polite, respectful girls.” Hanamiya rolled his eyes, dropping his voice to comment slyly, “You might as well have just said you like weak girls. The kind that will roll over and let you do whatever you want.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Imayoshi asks, adjusting his glasses with faux-primness.

“Yes.” Hanamiya’s out of the chair with startling speed, hands on the table on either side of Imayoshi’s hips, smirking at him. Their bodies are pressed together, Hanamiya right up against Imayoshi as if he’s about to foul him in that sneaky way he likes so much.

When Hanamiya speaks, Imayoshi can smell the chocolate on his breath.

“You’d grow bored.”

He doesn’t elaborate further. He kisses Imayoshi like he’s fouling him, like it’s an attack and he will see Imayoshi break under its fierceness. It’s all power and violence, tearing teeth and rough hands in Imayoshi’s hair,yanking hard enough to make his mouth open from shock - but Imayoshi’s mouth is already open and he’s kissing back just as viciously.

Hanamiya’s always been easy to read; Imayoshi’s seen this coming for weeks.

(And yet, for all that, the anticipated taste of blood in his mouth still surprises him.)


	9. make a deal at the crossroads

There’s magic in our veins, his mother always says. There’s magic and there’s power and you’re feeding it with everything you do. 

Hanamiya thinks of all the blood he’s spilled, all the lives he’s blighted, and decides that he’s fed his soul enough. It’s time to see what it can do for him now.

He goes down to the crossroads at midnight, carrying a wooden box against his chest.

He’s not a believer but he’s bored. What harm can this do? This deep in the country (and curse his mother for taking him down here for the summer, who cares about the fishing?), there’s nothing to do, no one to torment. A little black magic might just break the spell of stultifying stillness that’s got Hanamiya’s bones itching with the need to do something (to hurt someone).

Inside the box he’s got all the components that he remembers his grandmother talking about. She phrased it as a wish you pay a price for but Hanamiya knew better even then. What she was talking about is a bargain, the proverbial deal with the devil.

Well, Hanamiya has a fresh deck of cards and he’s ready to deal.

The dirt at the crossroads is dry and hard. The physical labor of carving out a chunk big enough for him to bury the box under is tougher than Hanamiya expected; he’s sweating by the time he’s done, hand bloodied where a rock ripped the skin on his palm open. He places the box in the hole, pats the dirt over it, then stands back and wait.

When nothing happens after five minutes, he’s ready to leave. He turns and finds himself face-to-face with a teenager about his own age, dark-haired and with closed eyes curved like a tanuki’s.

The yelp he makes is a little undignified, Hanamiya will admit, but every man is allowed a few moments of awkwardness in their lives and finding out that you successfully summoned a demon is a good reason to be awkward.

“You are not very patient,” the demon observes, its tone surprisingly polite. “Most people wait much longer.”

“Most people probably only do this if they’re so desperate that they’ll wait as long as it takes for a miracle,” Hanamiya shoots back, stuffing his hands in his pocket. He refuses to step back and cede any ground to the demon so they talk like that, face-to-face and so close their bodies are touching.

“If you are not that desperate, then why summon me in the first place?” The demon asks.

“I was bored,” Hanamiya says. His mouth curls into a smile that would shame any demon. “And I wanted a friend.”

Demons, Hanamiya finds, have a huge advantage over humans as playmates: no matter how they’re hurt, they never die.


	10. take (him) me out tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imayoshi and Hanamiya hunt together.

Neither of them are pretty on their own but together? That’s a different story. They know how to work a crowd, how to draw attention to the way they fit together. The hosts and hostesses who work at clubs have regular clients but what Hanamiya and Imayoshi want are the loners who can’t afford to buy bottles of champagne or hire sparkling beauties.

The schoolgirl complex in Japan isn’t quite as strong when it comes to schoolboys and neither Hanamiya nor Imayoshi are the delicate flower type. But that doesn’t matter. They won’t wear their uniforms to go fishing or even those from other schools. They dress like two young men, university students or high school students, coming home from a party.

They laugh and lean into each other, make eye contact with each other for far too long while scanning the crowded sidewalks to see who’s watching - who’s interested.

Anyone with a wedding ring gets avoided; those men are more likely to be missed and besides, they aren’t doing this on moral grounds. They aren’t punishing closeted gay men, they aren’t picking targets who are willing to prey on teenage boys. Whatever good they do is incidental to the thrill of the kill.

Imayoshi gets a kick out of watching Hanamiya saunter up to a salaryman and boldly accost him. It’s the look of fear that’s always the immediate reaction, the moment where their prey thinks he’s about to get robbed, and how fast it fades into a rapacious greed when the man realizes what Hanamiya’s offering. Sometimes the bargaining over price goes on for a little while, sometimes Hanamiya beckons Imayoshi over immediately.

Imayoshi’s always the one who chooses their targets and he hasn’t chosen wrong yet.

The rest of it is so easy. They take the man to a love hotel and make out a little, get him hot and bothered. Hanamiya crawls onto the bed and distracts him while Imayoshi preps the needle and injects him.

They wait until the time’s run out and then stagger out with the man, laughing and keeping their arms around him to move him with them and disguise the fact that he’s unconscious. The receptionists never look at their clients faces anyway and Imayoshi and Hanamiya have learnt the positioning of all the cameras at their usual haunts.

They dump him in a cab, taking care to keep his face hidden, and use his money to be driven closer to one of their favorite places. Once they have him there, they tie him up and wait for him to wake up.

Sometimes they kiss while waiting but nothing more.

Sex always comes after the kill.


	11. my god believes in starting over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The divine and the flawed coming together.

Man made God in his image and pictured him as a grandfather.

Hanamiya thinks that’s a mistake. Why a grandfather? Why someone old and bearded? The plethora of gods in Japanese culture are far more to Hanamiya’s style. 

When Imayoshi asks him what he thinks of God one day, Hanamiya laughs.

“What God?” Hanamiya as and sucks a bruising kiss to Imayoshi’s thigh, cupping his hand under Imayoshi’s knee to raise it further up. “Are you a God offering me Heaven?”

“You would be better suited to rule in Hell,” Imayoshi answers with a low laugh. His fingers curl into Hanamiya’s hair and pull hard enough to draw tears to Hanamiya’s eyes - just the way that Hanamiya likes it. 

Hanamiya shivers luxuriously and licks at the place he just bruised.

“Is that an offer, Shoichi?”

“When I become God,” Imayoshi says with his voice just a little rougher, just a little lower. “I will remember you.”

“Good,” Hanamiya says and bites down again. He lets go and blows cold air over the wet skin just to watch Imayoshi’s muscles tremble. “A god shouldn’t have to get his hands dirty.”

*

“Kill me,” Imayoshi says and his voice echoes strangely as if it’s both inside and outside Hanamiya’s head.

It’s been a decade since Hanamiya saw Imayoshi last and he doesn’t know where Imayoshi’s been. Even his contacts couldn’t dig Imayoshi up.

And now Imayoshi’s back, looking as if no time’s passed, and offering Hanamiya a gun.

It must be rigged. It must be a trick.

The gun’s going to blow up in his hand or not be loaded or something. It’s a test, Hanamiya knows it, but Imayoshi’s smiling in the way he always does when he’s thought of something before Hanamiya has so it can’t be a test because that’s too obvious.

“Use one of your knives if you prefer. Strangle me with your bare hands.” Imayoshi’s still smiling as he spreads his arms wide, palms out. “Come now, Makoto. Don’t tell me you’ve never fantasized about killing me.”

A better lover might’ve demanded to know where Imayoshi was, how dare he think he can just stroll right back in as if nothing happened.

But they are not lovers and were never in love.

Hanamiya cuts Imayoshi’s throat and he bleeds golden ichor. Hanamiya squeezes over the wounds, strangles Imayoshi and the skin won’t bruise.

When he puts the barrel of of the gun against Imayoshi’s forehead and pulls the trigger, the bullet has nowhere to go and the gun does, indeed, blow up in Hanamiya’s hand.

Imayoshi heals Hanamiya’s hand so that it’s as good as new again.

“What are you?” Hanamiya asks and his voice is hungry rather than awed.

“A god,” Imayoshi says calmly and rests his hand on top of Hanamiya’s head. “And it is time for a cleansing.”


	12. the high priest of destruction

At birth, everyone bears the mark of their deity somewhere on their body. The hand is the most common, where it can be shown easily, but some devotees of the Deity of Love are marked over their hearts while those bound to the Deity of Wisdom can have their mark on their forehead.

By law, it is forbidden to tattoo another mark onto your body to feign allegiance to another god. There is no law against removing marks; even those desperate enough to carve the flesh off their own bodies or amputate their own hands know it’s useless. The mark will return somewhere else.

The deity that has claimed you while you were in the womb cannot be denied and to try to do so is to incite their wrath.

And so there are people walking the world who are marked to deities that the general populace prefers to avoid: war, thieves, wrath, liars, death, none of those are considered good deities to be sworn to. Oh, the deity of death takes care of their own and those mortals almost always die painlessly and swift, and the deity of liars lends credence to even the tallest of tales while those under war emerge from battlefields unscathed - but what use is that when it dooms you to be alone?

Nobody wants to wed a liar or stand too close to someone around whom fights always break out. Nobody wants to have a friend who takes their things without getting caught or whose touch causes the withering of plants.

Imayoshi could have been a great leader of men but his mark set his life on a different track.

Stamped over his heart, hidden by his clothes but known to all around him in his village, was the mark of the Deity of Destruction. It was at Hanamiya’s shrine that Imayoshi made his sacrifices and it was to Hanamiya he prayed when being shunned grew unbearable.

The people who wronged him, whom he named in his prayers, would suffer for it. Their houses would collapse, their cars suddenly break down. Their pens would break during important tests and their electronics would fry.

Hanamiya was a cruel god but those few that he chose, he looked after like every other deity did.

Sometimes, Imayoshi thought that he could hear Hanamiya.

It started as laughter at other people’s expense and soon it moved onto edicts. Imayoshi obeyed, curious to see what would happen and somehow, somehow, he flourished.

At the relatively young age of 23, he became the High Priest of Destruction.

The common people feared to meet his eyes but kings and lords knelt for his blessing.

Such subservience was sweeter than friendship could have ever been.


	13. liar liar heart on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying to protect each other & lying to each other.

“I didn’t do it,” Hanamiya lies to the teacher.

“He didn’t,” Imayoshi lies as well, “I saw Tanaka hide the duster.”

The teacher believes them and Tanaka’s parents are told about his prank and even worse, about his deceit afterwards.

Tanaka comes into school the next day with eyes red from crying.

*

“You look beautiful,” Hanamiya tells the most socially isolated girl in school.

“Me?” She asks, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

Imayoshi leans against Hanamiya and says, “He won’t shut up about you.”

Her cheeks go pink and she makes a squeaking noise that some people might find cute. To Imayoshi, it sounds like a rodent about to be run over by a truck.

*

“It was an accident,” Hanamiya lies, holding out his hand to help up the player he just fouled. Somehow, the ref didn’t see it - but Imayoshi did. Hanamiya’s elbow had gone right into the boy’s side, hard enough that if the player had cracked ribs, Imayoshi wouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m so sorry,” Hanamiya says and Imayoshi’s heading over, dusting the boy down and looking at him sympathetically.

“That was a hard fall you took,” he says, gesturing at the bench. “What an awful accident. Do you want to sit it out for a bit?”

The boy nods, looking dazed. Imayoshi feels Hanamiya’s smile like electricity in the air, crackling before a thunderstorm. 

*

“I don’t think we should go to the same school.”

“That’s what I was about to say.”

*

“How’s your new team?” Imayoshi asks. He’s out in the gardens for the sake of privacy; when he’s visited Touou Academy, he hadn’t realized quite how thin the dorm room walls were. Anything he said in his room would be overheard.

“Not bad,” Hanamiya says and laughs. “The coach is a problem but I’ll be rid of him soon enough. How’s yours?”

“Not bad,” Imayoshi mirrors. It’s a lie. Their team is terrible. He’s going to make damn sure that they recruit better players next year.

Hanamiya laughs and asks, “So you’ll give us a good match when we meet in the Inter-High prelims?”

Imayoshi thinks of Hanamiya’s playstyle and decides that no matter, he is not going to be the ace of the team. There’s friendship and then there’s stupidity and relying on the first is proof of the second.

“Of course,” he lies again and Hanamiya laughs again.

His laugh sound much better in person.

*

“I love you,” Imayoshi says and Hanamiya laughs, cups Imayoshi’s chin and kisses him. It’s all teeth, all tearing, and Imayoshi can feel the blood trickle back into his mouth when the kiss ends.

“Oh Shoichi,” Hanamiya murmurs, so mockingly tender. “Haven’t you learnt by now that I can always tell when you’re lying?”

He kisses Imayoshi again and murmurs sarcastically, cruelly, against Imayoshi’s bloody lips, “I love you.”

Imayoshi doesn’t tell Hanamiya that he’s always been able to tell when Hanamiya is lying.

He knows Hanamiya isn’t lying now.


	14. Kirisaki Daiichi vs Touou Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lesson must be learnt.

They’re fighting for position under the basket, jostling each other. There’s a sudden snap of a gleam in Hanamiya’s eyes, a brightness akin to a knife being unsheathed, and Imayoshi knows what will happen even before he hears the crack.

Sakurai hits the floor hard, cradling his arm against his chest. He’s pale with pain, teeth sinking into his lower lip to keep himself silent, and Imayoshi’s glare at Hanamiya is an accusation. Hanamiya smiles back; if they weren’t on court, Hanamiya would be blowing kisses, Imayoshi knows, and Imayoshi’s temper flares.

Oh, he knows Hanamiya inside and out, knows the rotten core of the other boy’s heart, but he’d never thought Hanamiya would be stupid enough to play those tricks on Imayoshi’s team.

A lesson needs to be learnt here and like a good senpai, Imayoshi will make sure he is the one to teach it to Hanamiya.

*

“Ah--” Hanamiya pants, a wide smile stretching from ear to ear. It looks like he could open his mouth and devour the world, so Imayoshi punches him right in the mouth. He skins his knuckles against Hanamiya’s teeth, leaves blood smudged over Hanamiya’s lips, and Hanamiya smiles at him still.

Hanamiya’s tongue darts out, swipes over his own teeth, pressing to check if they’re loose.

“Didn’t knock any out, Imayoshi,” he croons, fond as a lover. “Want to try again?”

Imayoshi can feel his own lips peeling back from his teeth, the cold anger having thawed and transmuted into something far more insidious.

The next punch lands on Hanamiya’s cheek. It’s a good, hard blow; it vibrates up Imayoshi’s arm all the way to his shoulder and Imayoshi has to resist the temptation to shake his fist out to get the sting out of his knuckles.

Hanamiya moans and arches under Imayoshi, hands clawing at Imayoshi’s thighs.

“Again,” he begs-commands, eyes as dark and toxic as withering moss. “Come on, senpai, you can hit harder than that.”

He drops his voice a little, makes it rough and hungry, “I’m not one of your little Touou teammates. You don’t have to play nice with me.”

So Imayoshi doesn’t.

*

Afterwards, he admires the beauty that is Hanamiya destroyed. His long legs are littered with bite marks and bruises, purple-blue all the way down to his ankles where Imayoshi wrenched them apart and forced them behind Hanamiya’s neck even as the muscles threatened to tear. He’s bruised everywhere, from neck to wrists, from cheek to hip, discolored and smeared with streaks of white and red.

And he’s still smiling, still smugly sated. 

He hasn’t learnt his lesson but Imayoshi knew he never would. Boys like Hanamiya don’t learn anything except how to grow more evil.

(And that, too, Imayoshi has taught him.)

He almost wishes he smoked. To put out a cigarette on Hanamiya right now, press it into his chest and drop it on him like he’s trash, would be supremely satisfying.

Instead, he kicks Hanamiya lightly in the crotch, making his whole body jerk.

“Get yourself cleaned up before the janitors come,” he says and turns to leave.

As he walks away, he hears Hanamiya shout, “Thank you for the meal, senpai!”

The sound of his footsteps don’t quite cover up Hanamiya’s laughter.


	15. rich kids and their tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka the moment I realized that Hanamiya should be into shibari.

The pillow was just a little too soft. His head sank down against it, the fluffy fat sides coming up to block his vision.

Tch. The Kirisaki Daiichi students were so spoiled.

Imayoshi had always avoided coming to Kirisaki Daiichi before - Hanamiya might be able to keep people from gossiping now but what about when they graduated? Imayoshi wouldn’t have his reputation sullied by even the rumors he’d associated with Hanamiya.

Hanamiya had been right, though. The dorms were empty for the break and Imayoshi had slipped in unseen without spotting a single other person.

He wasn’t going to gape like some tourist at the luxurious grounds or old buildings. He made his way through the corridors swiftly, dressed in the spare uniform that Hanamiya had sent him, and arrived at Hanamiya’s room even quicker than he’d expected.

Ten minutes later, he was on his back on the bed, stripped of the borrowed niform with Hanamiya looming over him.

(They’d always met on neutral territory before. He’d never walked into the spider’s lair before - but the danger was what made Hanamiya so thrilling.)

“Regretting it yet?” Hanamiya asked, throwing his own shirt off the bed. Imayoshi’s gaze wandered over the expanse of bared skin, mapping the faded scars and new bruises.

“No,” Imayoshi said and took his glasses off carefully. He set them aside, blinking at the soft focus Hanamiya - like this, with his edges blurred away, he was nothing but skin the color of an unripe peach and hair that spills like oil into water. He could be human. He could be hurt.

He stretched his arms above his head, finding the struts of Hanamiya’s bedhead and wrapping his fingers around them. “But I didn’t come here to listen to you gloat.”

Hanamiya grinned, a shark’s wide stretch of sharp teeth, and twisted to pull something from a bedside drawer. The slide of smooth rope over Imayoshi’s wrists was familiar, as was Hanamiya’s rapt expression as he slowly, carefully, bound Imayoshi up within his very own spider’s web. The red rope was made especially for shibari, smooth and strong enough to support an adult’s weight for suspension play, and Imayoshi knew he wouldn’t be able to escape once the knots were done.

The spike of adrenaline that thought sent through him was almost as sweet as the anticipation of the moment when Hanamiya was done and just looked at him, drinking in the sight of his trapped prey.

The click of a camera phone made Imayoshi snarl - so Hanamiya took another photo, just as Imayoshi knew he would. Naked, bound and so clearly waiting, those photos would be as damaging as a nuclear bomb to his future career.

But Hanamiya needed to feel as if he had some hold over Imayoshi so Imayoshi didn’t destroy Hanamiya for it. Yet.

If Hanamiya ever used those photos, Imayoshi might have to take measures to end their relationship and Hanamiya himself.

For now, he could lie back, captured and captivating, and wait for the sweet moment when Hanamiya’s hands descended to wrap around his throat.


	16. flaunting it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhibitionism, underage, getting other people to be reluctant voyeurs, power play, mild description of gore, sex toys, sadism, masochism, violence - all the good stuff

"Oh, you naughty boy," Imayoshi tsked as Hanamiya strolled over with faint specks of blood on his shirt cuffs. "What have you been up to now?"

"Nothing, senpai," Hanamiya said with the utmost earnestness. "It was a terrible accident. One of the boys in the basketball club tripped while going down the stairs. I stayed with him until the ambulance came."

Hanamiya settled down next to Imayoshi, well aware of the silence that had fallen on the Student Council Committee the moment that Hanamiya entered, and widened his eyes at Imayoshi. 

"It was so horrible. His arm bone was poking out from his arm - it was all white and grisly with blood gushing out--"

Oe of the other student council members made a choking noise and fled. The other two were quick to follow, leaving Imayoshi and Hanamiya alone.

Hanamiya's grin sharpened as he leaned in and cooed into Imayoshi's ear, "And when I put my hand on the bone and yanked, he screamed so sweetly."

Imayoshi shivered and a second later, Hanamiya's hand was in Imayoshi's lap.

*

Hanamiya jogged off the court, sweat dripping down from his hairline and trickling down the sides of his face. He headed for the locker room, raising his hand to high-five Imayoshi.

Instead, Imayoshi grabbed his wrist and used it as leverage to slam him against the lockers.

"You're such a bad boy," Imayoshi said, the grey glint of his eyes unnerving from behind his glasses. "I told you to leave that one alone."

"Did you, senpai?" Hanamiya cooed, ignoring their discomforted teammates trying to ignore them. "My mistake. I thought it was the blond you wanted spared."

"Brat," Imayoshi said. He pressed tighter, squeezing the delicate bones in Hanamiya's wrists until he could hear them grinding together with a papery scrape. Hanamiya shivered and went limp in Imayoshi's grasp, dangling from his eyes.

It looked like submission but in his eyes, a challenge still glittered. 

Imayoshi squeezed harder until Hanamiya's back arched away from the lockers and his tongue slid out, licking over his lips in that odd, half-repulsive, half-sexual manner.

"Senpai," he groaned, breath coming a little quicker. "Is that all you're going to squeeze?"

By now, all their teammates had beat a hasty retreat to the shower room. Imayoshi let go of Hanamiya's wrists and Hanamiya promptly slid to the floor, mouth open and head tilted back already.

"Make it fast," Imayoshi said and slid his hands into Hanamiya's hair instead.

*

"You always know just what people will hate the most," Hanamiya said, the words a half-laugh as he eyed the contraption in Imayoshi's hands. The metal gleamed cold and merciless, the sharpened ends of the prongs looking vicious enough to cut right through Hanamiya's cheeks.

"It's not as if you've ever needed your mouth to hurt anyone," Imayoshi said as he held the gag up to Hanamiya's mouth. There was a moment that Hanamiya could have yanked his head away, that could have said no - but he would never forfeit a point to Imayoshi.

He opened his mouth instead and let the metal slide over his lips. It formed a circle just behind his front roys of teeth, keeping his mouth open, but left his tongue free to move. The sharp prongs that pressed into his cheek were an incentive not to talk, though. The thick smell of new leather rose from the gag and Hanamiya swallowed the saliva that had started to gather in his mouth.

"It suits you," Imayoshi said, his smile malicious. "All the pleasure and none of the pain of having to listen to you talk."

Hanamiya couldn't respond verbally so he punched Imayoshi hard in the groin instead, making him fall back to the ground. He slammed his foot down on Imayoshi's crotch, hard enough to make Imayoshi howl, and then dropped down swiftly to get his hands around Imayoshi's throat.

Imayoshi had been right. Hanamiya didn't need his mouth to hurt people.


	17. if your kisses can't hold the man you love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for emotional and mental manipulation, Hanamiya Getting Around and people being used as pawns.
> 
> See also: Hanamiya doesn't take being dumped well.

Hanamiya wasn’t never been the type that believed in the therapeutic power of tears. What did they do except make your eyes red and your nose run?

When Imayoshi informed him that their relationship was over and he did not want anyone to even know of their past association as they entered their last year of high school, Hanamiya’s first impulse had been to tell Imayoshi that he was letting fear trap him into making bad decisions. He knew how they could keep their relationship running without anyone finding out.

Really, just because Toudou Academy had thin walls and Kirisaki Daiichi had a reputation as a school for spoiled rich brats didn’t mean that it was impossible for them to continue as they had been! They’d managed it discreetly in middle school. High school wouldn’t be any different. Even college didn’t have to be the end of them.

The arguments were right there on the tip of his tongue but Hanamiya stopped himself before he could voice them.

If he said anything, it’d seem as he needed Imayoshi. As if he were too attached to take being dumped.

He slumped back in his chair and smiled lazily instead, “Okay. Saves me on train fare anyway."

As if he’d ever been short of cash.

*

Hanamiya draped himself over the railing of the stands and cheered loudily as the ball swished through the net.

Imayoshi looked up, shoving his hair off his face, and narrowed his eyes at Hanamiya. Ignoring his team, he jogged over to the stands and asked with a sharp smile, "Couldn't stay away?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Hanamiya said airily. "I've come to cheer on my new boyfriend."

"Sakurai?" Imayoshi asked in a tone of disbelief, putting together who'd scored with whom Hanamiya had cheered for. "He's practically a child."

Hanamiya shrugged, his teeth glinting wide, "I was younger when you started with me."

He dropped his voice a little, widening his eyes in mock surprise, "Are you jealous, senpai?"

Imayoshi turned around and headed back to his team. Such a question wasn't worth answering.

*

Wakamatsu was such an angry thing at his heart and so protective. When he threatened Hanamiya with dire harm should he break Sakurai's heart, Hanamiya had barely kept himself from laughing. Instead, he'd insisted that he was always very gentle with Sakurai and Wakamatsu could even watch if he wanted to.

Talking Wakamatsu into joining them for a threesome had been far more difficult than talking Sakurai into it. 

He promised not to share the photos he took of the two of them but Imayoshi somehow ended up with them in his e-mail anyway.

 

*

During Kirisaki Daiichi's game against Seirin, Aomine and Hanamiya met in the bathroom. It wasn't a long encounter but it was long enough for Hanamiya to leave a very noticeable hickey on Aomine's throat. After all, if Aomine was there, that meant Imayoshi would be there as well.

Imayoshi had used to wear Hanamiya's bruises under his clothes. Placing that one on Aomine's neck was a very deliberate challenge.

*

Tears wouldn't bring Imayoshi back. Neither would logic.

But if Hanamiya knew anything about Imayoshi, it was that Imayoshi hated to be outsmarted.

Hanamiya had taken his team and now Imayoshi would have to counter attack.


	18. miss you maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imayoshi's first year at Touou Academy.

Imayoshi’s first year at Touou Academy was surprisingly dull. He settled in quickly enough, charmed the teachers and pleased his parents by joining the basketball club (again). 

And yet something was lacking.

It took him a while to admit to himself that what’s missing was Hanamiya.

He didn't know how Hanamiya learnt to pick locks. Rich brats should have no use for those skills when their name and their money should open all the doors they want and yet Imayoshi’s seen Hanamiya turn paper clips into lock picking tools that’ll get him in anywhere.

Most of the time, however, Hanamiya had used his skills at picking locks to break into Imayoshi’s room. Imayoshi rooming with a boy a year below him would have been suspicious so instead, they both got rid of their roommates and Hanamiya dropped it whenever Imayoshi invited him - or whenever he felt like it.

Imayoshi had a double room all to himself once more but nobody to keep him company. It was easy enough to spot the boys that would be receptive to his advances, the weak-willed and shy ones who would never dare report him and questioning boys who would let his will sublimate their own but none of them were interesting.

Not like Hanamiya was. He found his mind straying to Hanamiya far too often; his look of exasperation when he was called Makoto-chan, the way he could fake tears at will, the wide, mobile mouth, his fondness for sticking his tongue out like a five year…

Invariably, his thoughts would turn to Hanamiya in bed and how good Hanamiya was with his tongue. The boy shared Imayoshi’s tastes, a complicated blend of pain and pleasure where sex wasn’t about the physical pleasure but about the push-pull of control between the two parties.

In the end, Hanamiya’s truest appeal hadn’t been his cruelty or his caprice. It had been his intelligence.

 

Apart from Hanamiya, there was nobody on Imayoshi’s level. Nobody could scheme like him, nobody could plot like him - nobody could look at his homework and make scornful comments about where to improve it. 

More than once, Imayoshi found himself typing in Hanamiya’s email address when he’d meant to contact a teacher or classmate. It wasn’t as if he could demand that Hanamiya come over and visit him, and he certainly couldn’t go back to their middle school but....

The end of the school year came all too slowly and Imayoshi sent Hanamiya a packet of brochures about Touou Academy. He even took the precaution of telling Hanamiya what sort of application letter he should write, though he was sure Hanamiya would have done well on that anyway.

*

Hanamiya went to Kirisaki Daiichi and despite his disappointment, Imayoshi wasn’t surprised.

The boy was always so fond of shattering dreams.


	19. the best you ever had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So a lot of fics have them already having an established relationship by the time they reach high school, but that means they started hooking up in middle school which means even if it was the LAST year of Imayoshi in middle school, Hanamiya would’ve still been a year younger and therefore slightly Creepy Implications about underage, implied sexual experience of underage chars and Hanamiya doing is best to seduce Imayoshi who is 100% convinced this is a bad idea but also that Hanamiya is pretty when he’s hurt.

Imayoshi stared down at the boy, somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"No," he said flatly, moving to shut the door on him. Hanamiya stuck his foot between the door and the frame, meaning that Imayoshi would have to crush his foot if he wanted to close the door.

For a second, Imayoshi considered doing just that but then, Hanamiya was on the basketball team as well and he was good at it. It would be a pity to do anything to harm their team's chances.

"Why not?" Hanamiya said, bracing his arm against the doorframe and slipping in under Imayoshi's arm. He moved as swiftly as a splash of water, in Imayoshi's room before Imayoshi could stop the underclassmen.

"I don't need to give you reasons. You're supposed to accept it when someone says no and leave," Imayoshi said, shutting the door after Hanamiya so that nobody would hear the conversation.

"But senpai, would that really be in keeping with the school motto? We never give up," Hanamiya said, hands behind his back and an expression of perfect innocence on his face.

Imayoshi, who knew better than to believe any expression Hanamiya wore (like a starlet, he changed them at will), snorted. "This wasn't what they were referring to."

"You never know." Hanamiya stepped closer, slanting what he no doubt thought was a tempting look from under the dark fringe of his thick black eyelashes. Even Imayoshi had to admit that Hanamiya had pretty eyes; they were grey most of the grey, but not the metallic grey of Imayoshi's eyes. Hanamiya's eyes had a hint of green to them that sometimes came to the forefront, a shifting green-grey hue that was as changeable as Hanamiya himself.

"After all, senpai, it's not as if you were old enough to have been around back then. You're only a year older than me," Hanamiya said, reaching up to caress Imayoshi's face.

Imayoshi smacked his hand away and didn't believe for even a second the hurt that flashed into Hanamiya's eyes.

"You're a year too young to even be thinking of this things, let alone doing them," Imayoshi said calmly with his usual smile.

"Come on," Hanamiya coaxed with a laugh, sliding his hands into his pockets. "You know I've always been precocious."

He let his voice drop, as low as he could get it, and traced his tongue over his lips deliberately. "I'll be the best you've ever had."

Imayoshi shuddered, deliberately twisting his mouth into a scornful curve as he reached out and cupped Hanamiya's cheek, eyes opened wide and watchful before his glasses. "You're disgusting, Makoto-chan."

"And you're turned on," Hanaiya countered, kissing Imayoshi's palm the way that Imayoshi had known he would.

It gave Imayoshi a perfect excuse to slap him and the rise of red to Hanamiya's cheek was more seductive than any pout of his.


End file.
